Heart in Armor
by Roving Otter
Summary: Sasori never wanted a new partner, particularly not a loud, hot-headed, inexperienced brat. Then he finds himself feeling things he hasn't felt in years. Saso/Dei.
1. Chapter 1

Sasori unrolled the scroll and stared at the curt message from Pain: _Your new partner will be arriving shortly. I expect you to keep him under control. This is not up for debate._

Sasori glanced up at the messenger hawk. The hawk cocked its head, fixed one bright, copper eye on Sasori, then preened its breast-feathers.

He looked down at the scroll again and muttered, "Damn him."

Sasori didn't need a partner. He was glad to be rid of that smug snake bastard. He was more productive without the distraction of another person around. He'd told Pain all this. Not that it made a difference.

He growled, wadded up the message in one hand and tossed it into the trash.

He'd known this was coming, but he hadn't expected it so soon. The blond brat had only been recruited a few months ago. Surely he wasn't ready to go on missions yet. In Sasori's opinion, he wasn't fit to be part of Akatsuki at all. He had an interesting Kekkei Genkai, but nothing more.

He fed the messenger hawk a few bloody strings of rabbit-meat, then wandered into the workshop and resumed tinkering with his latest puppet.

A few hours later, he heard a knock at the door. Sasori climbed into Hiruko. With chakra strings, he pulled the puppet armor shut around him. Concealed inside, he shuffled toward the front door, unlocked and opened it.

A blond boy of about fourteen stood there, clad in Akatsuki robes.

"Yo!" The boy raised a hand, smiling broadly. "Remember me? I'm Deidara."

Sasori squinted at him in the bright sunlight.

"I'm glad I'm working with you. They say you're pretty powerful, un. You're the puppeteer, right? Does that mean you put on puppet shows at kids' birthday parties? Heh, just kidding. Say, you got anything to eat in there? I'm starving, un."

Sasori slammed the door in his face, locked it and turned away, his teeth clenched. "I am not doing this," he muttered.

He made his way toward the back of his hideout, where he kept his messenger hawks.

"Hey!" The kid hammered on the door with one fist. "Why'd you lock the door? Let me in, un!"

"Go away."

The brat kept hammering on the door and shouting to be let in. Sasori ignored him as he unrolled a small parchment on his desk and began to write: _You are sorely mistaken if you think I am going to stand for this. I have made my wishes very clear to you. Expecting me to partner with a child is an insult to my dignity…_

A thunderous explosion shook the house, and the pencil fell from his hand. "Damn it!" He turned and stomped out of his workshop. "What now?" He froze when he saw the mess before him. Not only the door, but a good-sized part of the wall had been blown to pieces. Chunks of stone littered the floor and the ground outside.

The blond brat stood in the midst of it, fists clenched, face flushed, panting.

"You…" Sasori lunged, grabbed the brat and slammed him against the wall outside. "Do you have any idea who you're trifling with, boy?"

Deidara glared at him. "What was I supposed to do? You locked me out!"

"I don't want you here." Sasori glared into those defiant blue eyes. "I work alone. I don't need a partner."

"I'm not leaving."

"Do you see this?" He arched his iron tail and moved the poisonous tip closer to Deidara's face. "This barb is tipped with the most potent poison I have at my disposal. One scratch, and you'll die after three days of indescribable agony. And if you're not out of my sight within the next minute, I _will _use this poison on you. I have no qualms about killing brats."

Deidara gritted his teeth, tears standing in his blue eyes. "Fine, then! Kill me. It doesn't matter. If you won't let me stay, then I'll die anyway."

Sasori narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"That Itachi guy…he told me if I tried to run, if I didn't stay with you, he'd kill me. He said he'll be watching me."

Sasori studied his face. "Is that so?"

Deidara gulped. "Yeah. I believe him, un. He's a scary motherfucker." He clenched his fists. "But one of these days I'll get strong enough to beat him. I'll make him regret the way he treated me."

Sasori sniffed. He seriously doubted that this boy would ever be strong enough to beat Itachi, but he wasn't inclined to debate him on the subject. He released Deidara, who slumped against the wall, shaking. Sasori stood back and appraised him coldly. If he killed Deidara now, he'd catch hell from Pain. And if he sent him away and Itachi killed him—assuming he wasn't bluffing—they'd probably both catch hell from Pain.

Even setting aside all that, he found himself oddly reluctant to carry through with his threat. Deidara just looked so pathetic, shivering there against the wall like a scrawny, blond, half-drowned kitten. There was no need to waste good poison on someone like him.

"Fine," he said. "You can stay here. For now." Just until he got this sorted out with Pain, he told himself. Hopefully it wouldn't take more than a few days. "But if you annoy me too much, maybe I'll decide that I'd rather kill you after all."

"O-okay, un."

"And stop that incessant grunting."

"Un…sorry, un, I can't help it. It, un, it gets worse when I'm nervous, un."

Sasori sighed. It was a good thing, he thought, that a human puppet couldn't get headaches. Otherwise, he was sure he'd have a throbbing migraine by now. "All right, come in. You're going to fix that door later on, make no mistake about it, but I suppose I should feed you first."

Deidara pressed both hands to his stomach. "God, yes. I'm so hungry."

Sasori eyed Deidara and noticed just how thin he was. His chin looked far too pointed, his cheeks too hollow. He was pale, as well, with dark circles beneath his bright blue eyes. Hmm. "When's the last time you ate anything?"

"Yesterday morning. I traveled a long time to get here."

"Well, I don't have much food. I never eat it, myself. But there should be a few pouches of food pills in the back of the pantry, if the mice haven't gotten to them. You can help yourself."

Deidara blinked. "You don't eat anything? How is that possible?"

"Never mind that. The pantry is over there." He pointed with his tail.

Deidara opened the pantry door, and a few moths flew out. He waved them away, then stepped inside and rummaged. Sasori retreated into his workshop, picked up a wrench and began tightening a bolt on his newest puppet's leg.

He heard footsteps behind him and glanced over his shoulder. Deidara stood there, his hands filled with food pills, his cheeks stuffed with more, bulging like a chipmunk's. He chewed loudly and swallowed. "What are you doing?"

Sasori twisted the bolt tighter. "I'm working on one of my puppets."

"Can I watch?"

"If you're quiet."

Deidara watched him in silence for a few minutes. He looked around at the dozens of puppets hanging on the walls of Sasori's workshop and asked, "You like puppets a lot, don't you?"

Sasori didn't answer.

"You seem to be pretty good at making them."

"Pretty good?" He turned, wrench in hand. "I am the greatest living puppet master in the world. Though some may argue the point, I'm also one of the world's greatest living artists."

"You're an artist?" Deidara's blue eyes lit up. "That's great! So am I. I've always wanted to work with a fellow artist, un. So where's your art?"

"It's all around you. _This _is my art—these puppets, my weapons. Each one is perfect, the culmination of countless hours of labor and concentration. Their beauty will never rot or fade."

"Oh, I get it, un. Cool! Do you want to see _my _art?"

"I saw it once before, during your battle with Itachi. I wasn't terribly impressed."

"Oh, I've improved a lot since then! It's totally different."

Sasori sighed. "Very well. Let's see it."

"We'll have to go outside."

Sasori stepped away from his workbench and followed Deidara out of the workshop, through the hole where his front door had been, into the forest.

Deidara reached into the pouch at his hip and pulled out a wad of clay. As Sasori watched, one of the boy's obscene-looking mouth hands chewed up the clay. Then he closed his fingers around the wad, and when he opened them, a tiny bird stood in his palm. He set it on the ground. "Stand back," said Deidara, his blue eyes sparkling. He held his hand up in a sign. _"Katsu!"_

The bird exploded with a roar of flame, leaving a crater in the ground. Smoke curled up from the edges.

Deidara grinned. "So what do you think? Better than last time, un?"

"You dragged me out here for that? I didn't see any difference. Except that last time you made a spider instead of a bird."

Deidara frowned. "It _is _different! The old pieces were more bulky. My new ones are streamlined, simpler and cleaner."

"What does it matter? If you blow it up right away, no one's going to notice subtle differences like that. Try making something that lasts. Until then, you're not an artist. You're just a glorified bomber."

Deidara's smile fell away, and he flinched back as if he'd been struck. He lowered his gaze, and for a moment, Sasori wondered uneasily if he was going to cry.

Then he looked up, and the cocky grin was back. Was it a mask? Or did his emotions really change that quickly? "Art _is _explosion," Deidara said. "It's fleeting and brilliant. It lights up the world in a flash and then disappears."

"Nonsense. Real art is eternal."

He put his hands on his hips. "Nothing is eternal, un. The only constant in this world is change. Death and rebirth are happening all around us."

So the brat had a philosophical side. Maybe there was a bit more to him than met the eye. Even so, his adolescent views on life annoyed Sasori. "Living things die, but that's why we create art, to transcend our brief mortal life-spans. Haven't you ever been to a museum? There's one in Suna with a beautiful jade sword that's over six hundred years old, still in excellent condition. Wouldn't you rather create something like that?"

"Nah. I never liked museums, un. They're boring. I'm interested in here and now. Who cares about some old sword made by a dead guy?"

Sasori's tail lashed out and knocked him to the ground.

"_Ow!"_ Deidara leaped to his feet. "What was that for?!"

"Ignorance."

"Hey, my opinions are just as valid as yours, un! Do you always hit people you don't agree with?"

"When they annoy me enough."

Deidara scowled. "What's so great about having something eternal, anyway?"

He turned. "I refuse to have a debate with a child."

"I'm not a child!"

"Yes you are. I'm going back to my workshop. And _you _are going to work on repairing that wall."

"How should I do that, un?"

"That's up to you, but if it's not done by nightfall, you're sleeping outside."

"Aw, come on!"

"No excuses." He shuffled toward the house.

Deidara followed him. "Why do you dislike me so much, anyway? What did I do to you?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you being such an ass to me?"

God, he was irritating. He'd been here less than an hour, and already Sasori wanted to stuff a gag in that noisy mouth. And tie him up so he'd stop following him around like a stray kitten looking for a handout.

"Answer me!"

"I don't like people," Sasori snapped. "I like being alone. Anyway, there's no sense in us getting chummy with each other, because you aren't staying. As soon as I can get in touch with Pain, you're going back to wherever you were before you came here."

Deidara froze. Sasori turned and stared at him. "What is it?"

"I really don't want to go back," said Deidara, his voice trembling slightly. "I don't want to stay with him anymore. I hate him."

"Who?"

"Itachi. He gave me my basic training, un." He gulped. "Even if he doesn't kill me when I go back, he'll be really mad. He'll probably torture me again."

Sasori hesitated. "He tortures you?"

"It's all illusion, but still…it _feels _real. And he can make it last as long as he wants. Even if it's just a few minutes, in my head it goes on for days and days. I…I just really don't want to go back."

"That's none of my concern."

Deidara clenched his jaw and glared at Sasori. "I never wanted to be part of this group. And now you're saying you don't want me? After you forced me to join?"

"I was following orders. I don't understand what Pain sees in you, personally."

"Please. I—I know I've been kind of giving you a hard time, but I really _do _want to be your partner. I was glad when I heard it was you and not Itachi. I was so afraid they were going to stick me with him. And you're an artist, too. I thought…I dunno. I thought we could kind of understand each other and get along. Give me a chance. I'll prove to you that I'm not useless. My art can do lots of things. And I'll keep making it better. I just want a chance. That's all."

Sasori stared into the boy's wide eyes and experienced a peculiar tugging sensation inside his flesh core—a distinctly _annoying _sensation, impossible to ignore, as if the brat had somehow physically reached inside him to paw at his heart. Sasori looked away and uttered a low sound, half a growl and half a sigh.

He shouldn't care. He'd purged his heart of any shred of human pity…or so he thought.

Damn those blue eyes.

"Fine. Whatever. But if you're going to stay here, you're going to follow some rules. One: you are to address me as Sasori no Danna and obey me without talking back or asking questions. Two: stay out of my workshop and don't touch my puppets without permission. Ever."

Deidara saluted. "Yes, Sasori. I mean, Sasori no Danna."

"Good."

Deidara glanced at the hole in the wall. "I guess I should get started on fixing that. It's getting late."

"You do that." Sasori went into the house, where he resumed tinkering with his puppets. A few hours later, it was dark, and Deidara was still outside. Sasori could hear him grunting and panting as he worked. He listened for a minute, then left the workshop and made his way to the front of the house.

Deidara stood outside the demolished door, holding a chunk of stone. Sweat rolled down his flushed face. He staggered, dropped the stone on his foot and yelped. Muttering curses, he sat on the ground and held his foot gingerly. Then he glanced up at Sasori and offered a sheepish smile. "I'm not done yet. Sorry, danna."

Sasori hesitated. "You can finish that tomorrow. Come inside and get some sleep."

"Really?" He smiled—not the cocky grin he'd given Sasori earlier, but a hopeful, almost shy smile. "Thanks."

"Hmph."

Deidara followed him into the house. "Um…where should I sleep?"

"There's a bedroom down that hall. Second door to the left."

"Okay. But then, where will _you _sleep."

"I don't sleep." Sasori retreated to his workshop.

* * *

Sasori was oiling the joints in his right arm when he heard a sharp cry, like someone in pain. "What now?" he muttered and walked out of his workshop, down the hall to Deidara's bedroom.

He opened the door and peered in. Deidara lay in bed, his eyes closed, his blond hair unbound and spilling across the pillow. Tears shone on his cheeks. He was breathing hard. A soft moan escaped his lips. "No," he murmured. "Stop. It hurts."

Sasori moved closer to the bed and stood, looking down at him. Nightmares. He'd had plenty of those himself, before he transformed himself into a puppet. What was Deidara seeing, now? Was he dreaming about what Itachi had done to him?

Deidara whimpered and twitched in his sleep. Fresh tears seeped out from under his eyelids.

Sasori hesitated. Then, slowly, he reached out and lay a hand on Deidara's head.

At once, Deidara grew still, and the furrows smoothed from his brow. His whimpers stopped.

Sasori let his hand linger on Deidara's head a moment longer, listening to the soft in-and-out of his breathing. He had to admit, the brat was sort of cute when he was asleep. Of course, once he woke up and started running his tireless mouth again, the effect would probably be ruined. But for now…

He stood there, studying that tearstained, sleeping face. Then he turned and left the bedroom.

-To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Blood dripped from Sasori's iron scorpion tail. He wiped it off on a dead man's shirt.

Deidara surveyed the carnage around them with a grin. A breeze sighed through the forest, rustling the corpses' hair and clothes. "Seven guys in two minutes. I think we just set a new record, eh, Sasori no Danna? Serves them right. Stupid bandits."

Sasori turned and walked away from the carnage, still concealed in Hiruko. "Clean up the mess," he said.

Deidara stuck his hand into the pouch at his hip, withdrew a wad of clay and squeezed it. A moment later, seven tiny spiders hopped out of his palm and scurried over to the bodies. Vibrations shook the ground as the spiders exploded, bursting into brilliant flowers of smoke and flame. Deidara whooped with excitment. When it was over, he turned and followed Sasori through the forest. "You were awesome. Watching you fight is like watching art in motion."

"You performed your part adequately."

"Man, you're stingy with the praise, aren't you?"

Sasori didn't reply. Deidara sighed but said no more.

They'd been partners for two years now; Deidara had long since learned that Sasori never responded to questions with obvious answers.

After a few minutes of walking, they stopped to rest. "Scout the surrounding area," said Sasori. "Make sure we aren't being followed. There may be others."

Deidara made five clay mice, which he sent scurrying in different directions. They returned to him a short while later and gathered around his feet. He stared at them, listening to something only he could hear, then nodded and held out a hand. The mice scurried up his arm, then down his side, back into the pouch where he kept his clay. "No one around for miles."

"Good."

They walked a few hours longer, then stopped for the night. Deidara built a campfire. Sasori slipped out of Hiruko and examined his puppet for scratches or nicks. He hadn't taken any serious damage during the battle, but a stray kunai or two might have grazed him.

"Nice to see your real form again, un. Why are you always hiding yourself in Hiruko, anyway?"

Sasori looked up from examining his puppet's armored back. "It's simple practicality. Another layer of defense."

Deidara sat on the rocky ground, arms folded atop his knees, his blond hair gleaming like burnished gold in the campfire's light. He smiled, a playful glint in his eyes. "But you're so much sexier like this."

Sasori sniffed. "I'm more concerned with my battle-readiness."

"You're an artist. You should appreciate beauty."

Sasori ran a hand over Hiruko's back. "Hiruko _is _beautiful. He just isn't pretty."

"Oh? What's the difference?"

Sasori studied his partner's face for a moment, wondering whether it was worth the trouble to answer. He looked away, letting his gaze wander over the barren rock terrain around them, then said, "Prettiness is decorative. Pleasing to the eyes, but ultimately empty and meaningless. True beauty is about form and function. Hiruko's beauty—the beauty of all my puppets—lies not in their appearance, but their prowess in battle…and how perfectly all their features are preserved." With one slim, pale hand, he caressed the puppet's arm. "Real beauty endures the ravages of time. Prettiness dazzled and then fades. It's like the difference between infatuation and true love."

"Really?" Deidara cocked his head like an inquisitive dog. "Interesting comparison. Have you ever been in love?"

Sasori's shoulders tensed. "Enough questions. It's starting to get on my nerves."

Deidara frowned. "I'm tired of you always brushing me aside, un."

"Then stop needling me."

"It's called conversation. Silence gets boring after awhile, don't you think?"

"In silence, one can reflect upon the mysteries of life. Only empty-headed fools feel the need to fill it up with chatter."

Deidara slapped a hand to his heart, as if hit by an invisible arrow. "Danna,you're so cruel! I hang onto your every word, and you treat me like a barking dog. Am I really so annoying?" Despite his theatrics, there was a note of genuine hurt in his voice.

Sasori looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Not always." He averted his gaze. "You ought to get some sleep so we can get an early start tomorrow. I'll keep watch."

"It must be convenient, not needing to sleep."

Sasori grunted in response. He slipped back into Hiruko. The armor snapped into place around him.

"Don't go back inside yet. Please? I like being able to see you."

"My body isn't 'me' anymore than Hiruko is. It's just another layer."

"What, you're saying there's a third smaller guy inside _that _body?"

"No. I mean that this body is simply a container for my consciousness. A vehicle."

"Well, it's a damn sweet ride."

Sasori didn't respond. He was well aware of what was going on. For the past few months, Deidara had been flirting with him—first indirectly, with shy little innuendos, then openly and unabashedly, once he realized his partner wouldn't kill him for it. And in truth, it didn't bother Sasori that much. It was no more annoying than the rest of Deidara's chatter.

Perhaps—if he was being _really_ honest with himself—he even liked it a little. Though he'd lost the capacity for sexual pleasure and infatuation when he became a human puppet, he hadn't lost his vanity as an artist. His own body was his masterpiece. He enjoyed having it admired.

Hiruko's head snapped over Sasori's, hiding his real face.

Deidara heaved a melancholy sigh. Then he smiled. "Oh well. I still have my imagination."

Sasori swiped at him with Hiruko's long, iron tail. Deidara flinched back from the poisonous tip. "I assure you that any fantasies you have about me are not only impractical, but anatomically impossible. I left behind all the messy trappings of humanity when I made this body."

"Seriously?" He blinked. "So you don't have a…"

"Don't have one, don't need one."

"What a waste. Eternal youth and beauty with none of the perks."

"Not everyone is as obsessed with _that _as you are, brat."

"Hey, I'm a sixteen-year-old male. What do you expect?"

"Hmph." He turned away. "Get some sleep."

Deidara slid into his bedroll. Sasori stood at the edge of their campsite, scanning the terrain. They were still many miles from their destination. There was probably no one around to see them. Still, better to be cautious.

He heard muffled moans from within Deidara's bedroll and growled in annoyance. The brat had _no _shame. Didn't he care that Sasori could hear him? "I said _sleep_," he snapped.

Deidara raised his head, panting and flushed. He grinned. "If I don't do this, I'll never get to sleep. Just give me three more minutes. Of course, if you want to help…"

"You're intolerable." He turned away. "Fine, do what you need, but keep it quiet."

He listened as Deidara's breathing quickened, growing heavier and more ragged before culminating in a soft grunt. Then it slowed again, and minutes later, he was snoring.

The brat pleasured himself like this almost every night. No self-control at all. Pathetic.

Sasori found himself thinking back, trying to remember what masturbation felt like…but he hadn't done that much, even when he was human, and now only the vaguest impressions remained in his mind. Like sleep, food and warmth, he'd given that up along with his mortality.

* * *

Morning arrived, and they resumed their trek through the forest. The trees thinned out, giving way to rocky ground.

After another hour or so, Sasori noticed a creaking sound from within his armor. He stopped.

"Everything all right?" asked Deidara.

"Just a moment." Sasori moved his right arm, then his left arm. Nothing. He moved his right leg. _Creak. _"I think one of my joints is damaged." At a mental command, his armor unsnapped and slipped off like the shed skin of a snake. He lay Hiruko carefully aside, then sat on the ground. All this walking had probably loosened one of the screws in his knee-joints. Well, that was easily fixed.

Sasori hitched up his Akatsuki robes, revealing his slim, pale legs.

Deidara made a small, choked sound of surprise. "D-danna?"

"Don't get any ideas. I just need to adjust something." He examined his leg, rummaged through his supply pouch, pulled out a screwdriver and tightened a bolt in his knee. He looked up and saw Deidara staring at him intently. "What?" said Sasori.

"I've never seen this much of your real body before. Can I see the rest of it?"

"You really think I'm going to strip for you, brat?"

Deidara shrugged, and an impish smile grew from one corner of his mouth. "You can't blame a guy for trying. I've been fantasizing about what you look like under those robes ever since I first saw your real form."

Sasori paused. He shouldn't encourage Deidara in this, he thought. But then, what harm would it do? It wasn't as if they could have a sexual relationship. That was physically impossible. Maybe, once Deidara saw just how different, how far from human Sasori was, he'd abandon the idea. "Well, if you're really that curious…" He stood and opened his robes.

Deidara's eyes widened. For a long moment, he just stared, his expression unreadable.

"Probably not what you visualized during your fantasies," said Sasori. He ran a hand over the seams joining his neck to his torso, and his torso to his shoulder. He trailed his fingers across the cavity in his stomach, which housed a long, retractable metal cable. "Every part of me is a weapon." The cable slithered out of his belly, exposing its poisoned harpoon tip, and swayed through the air. He turned, letting Deidara see his back. The retractable blades on his hips shot out and spun like metal fans. "I surrendered my mortal self so I could become this. It isn't pretty, is it? But then, real art isn't always pretty. Sometimes it's unnerving. Sometimes it's even ugly."

"I don't think you're ugly. I mean…it's different. But different is interesting. Actually, I think having weapons in every part of your body is kind of sexy."

Sasori faced him and tilted his head slightly, frowning. "I have to admit, this isn't the reaction I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know. Awe. Horror. Maybe a bit more surprise, at least."

"Well, you might have noticed, I'm not exactly normal myself. I mean, I've got these things." He held up his hands, palms out, and the mouths in them stuck their tongues out and slobbered. He smirked. "Most people would find these pretty unnerving, but they don't bother you."

"They bother me when you're using them to pleasure yourself. Listening to that every night is highly annoying."

He chuckled. "You know what I mean. I mean, you don't think they're ugly or disturbing or anything. Do you?"

Sasori paused. "No. I've seen much stranger things."

"See? Normality is a matter of perspective. Say, what's that?"

"Hm?"

"That thing on your chest."

Sasori glanced down and touched the metal circle embedded in his skin—the circle with his own name painted on it in red. For a moment, he wondered if he should say anything. But Deidara _was _his partner now, after all. He'd have to find out about this sooner or later. "It's my heart," he said.

"Your heart?"

Sasori nodded. "I kept a small portion of my human body alive to generate chakra. I also transferred my consciousness into this, so if necessary, it can be removed and placed in a new body. I keep a few spares back at the hideout."

"Hey, I've seen those in your work room. I always wondered what those extra you's were for."

"Of course, I doubt a transfer will ever be necessary. I have many defenses. And I am developing new ones all the time." He slipped on his robes, then climbed back into Hiruko.

"How long can your heart survive outside of a body?"

Sasori paused, considering. "I'm not sure. But I'd guess about eight hours."

* * *

Flat, rocky terrain stretched around them for miles in every direction. The sky was a bleak, oppressive white. All around was nothing. They walked, their shadows trailing behind them. It seemed like they'd been walking for days.

"So danna, what are we doing here, anyway?"

"Do you _really _not remember our mission?"

Deidara chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't really paying attention when you explained, un."

Sasori sighed. Sometimes, he couldn't tell if Deidara was putting on an act. Surely he wouldn't have survived this long if he was as harebrained as he seemed. "We're investigating rumors of a Jinchuuriki in Iwagakure. I need to check in with one of my spies."

"Oh. Right. So why can't we just fly there? I've still got some clay…"

"Because we'd be too visible in the air. They'd spot us from miles away. Besides, it's better for you to conserve your clay. You might need it later."

"Oh. Right." He sighed. "I'm really not looking forward to this."

"Why? You were born in Iwagakure, weren't you? This will be a stroll down memory lane for you."

"Trust me, I have no emotional attachment to that place. It's boring and filled with tight-assed, intolerant pricks who have no appreciation of art. Though, come to think of it, it _might _be nice to go back there just to cause a scene…"

"We're not going there to cause a scene. We're just gathering information. Pein was clear about that."

"Aw. No explosions?"

"No."

"Not even one?"

"No! And if you bungle this mission, I promise I will make you regret it. Pein expects me to keep you under control. If you ruin this for us, I'm the one he'll take it out on. Understand?"

"You don't have to yell. Really, you're such a grump…"

Sasori lunged, pinned Deidara to the ground and whipped out his segmented tail, lowering it until the poisonous, barbed tip hovered just above Deidara's eyes. "I'm losing my patience with you, brat. Keep whining, and I _will _add you to my collection."

Deidara gulped, the color draining from his face. He squirmed and tried to pull away, but Sasori grabbed his throat, anchoring his head in place. The barb on his tail lowered another inch, moving ominously closer to one wide, blue eye. "Are we clear?"

"Y-yes, danna."

"Good." Sasori released him.

Deidara sat up and rubbed his throat, trembling. "Whew." He smiled, though his face was still sheet-white. "For a moment, I thought you were really going to kill me."

Sasori turned away. He realized he was lashing his iron tail, like an agitated cat, and stilled himself.

How Deidara could move him to anger so quickly was something he still hadn't figured out. He'd gone through the past few decades feeling nothing, physical or emotional. Lacking the glands and hormones that induced passion in flesh creatures, he lived as a free-floating consciousness, observing the world calmly from within his puppet shell, concerned only with his art and with accomplishing his missions.

Yet somehow, this cocky, loud-mouthed young blond had gotten under his skin.

"You know," Sasori said, "you need to learn some restraint, or your attitude will get you in serious trouble one of these days. Akatsuki members should be calm and serious."

Deidara stood and brushed the dust off himself. "Yes, danna. I'll remember that."

"Hmph." He resumed walking.

Deidara followed. "Hey, are you still pissed?"

Sasori stared straight ahead and didn't answer.

"I'll take that as a yes. What can I do to make it up to you? I'll buy you a drink once we go to the village…no wait, you don't eat or drink, do you? Un…well, how about a back-rub? Or I can polish your puppet…un, that sounded dirty, didn't it?"

"Shut up."

Deidara lapsed into silence.

_Finally._

They walked for awhile, and Sasori found himself watching his partner from the corner of his eye. Deidara stared at the ground, looking like a kicked puppy. For once, it seemed, he was taking Sasori's orders seriously. Though…he hadn't expected him to stop talking _entirely. _Sasori considered saying something—a silent Deidara was somehow unnatural—but held his tongue. Damned if he was going to apologize.

Ahead, the mountain range surrounding Iwagakure loomed, a gray wall, peaks cutting sharp silhouettes against the pale sky.

"So, how are we going to get in?" Deidara asked at last. "It's a shinobi village, so they won't just let us waltz through the gates."

"We'll tunnel in under the mountains. Your jutsu should come in handy for this." He approached the foot of the mountains, then paused. A vague sense of unease crept over him.

"Anything wrong, un?"

"Stay back." He shuffled forward another few inches, moving on all fours, as he often did when concealed within Hiruko.

He had no reason to believe there'd be traps set here. No one had seen them coming—he was almost sure of that. But then, the shinobi of Iwagakure were said to be particularly cunning and cautious. Deidara being the exception, of course.

"Hey, danna! Why don't you let me go first, if you're worried?"

"I'm not worried. Just being careful." He studied the ground, looking for the telltale shine of tripwires or the rumpled earth of a covered pit. He saw nothing, heard nothing out of the ordinary.

Sasori looked around for another moment. He probed the ground ahead with his tail—nothing. He crept forward. Too late, he heard the hiss of a fuse from within the ground below his feet.

A flash of light blinded him, and a deafening roar filled his ears. Everything went white.

Then, everything went black.

-To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Deidara felt the vibration in the ground just before the subterranean bomb went off. He opened his mouth to warn Sasori, but it was too late.

The explosion knocked Deidara off his feet. He sailed backward through the air, hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, skidded several yards and sat up, dizzy. The aftermath of the brilliant flash still lingered on his retinas, blinding him.

After a moment, his vision cleared, and his gaze focused on a small, pale hand. It lay near his feet, motionless, the palm upturned, the fingers curled, revealing the painted nails. Sasori's hand…but it ended at the wrist.

Shit.

Deidara leaped to his feet. "Danna!" He looked around, breathing hard, and his stomach sank as he saw more pieces of his partner scattered across the ground. "Oh shit…" He picked up Sasori's hand, grabbed something nearby that might have been part of his shoulder, then spotted half a face—like a broken mask—laying a few yards away. He picked it up, his throat knotted.

The heart, where was the _heart?_

After a few more minutes of searching, he spotted it: a dark cylinder on the rocky ground next to the massive pit where the bomb had detonated. Small, dark wires—or were they veins?—poked out from the surface.

Deidara dropped all the other pieces he'd been carrying—it wasn't like they'd do him much good now anyway—and ran toward the heart. The back of his neck prickled, and he whirled around to see a kunai flying toward him.

Deidara drew his own kunai and threw it. The two knives met in midair with a clang, deflecting each other. All around him, ninja leaped out from behind outcrops and boulders.

"I don't have time to play with you bastards." Teeth gritted, Deidara plunged his hands into the clay pouches at his hips. He scattered clay spiders across the ground; a sign activated the jutsu, and the spiders scurried toward his enemies. One by one, the clay bombs detonated. Screams pierced the air, and blood spattered the rocks.

Once he was sure all the enemy ninja had been killed, Deidara crouched and gently, carefully picked up Sasori's flesh core. It pulsed in his hand.

He had to get back to the base. Soon.

Deidara thrust one hand into his pouch. The mouth in his palm opened, chewed up a wad of clay, and spat a tiny white bird onto the ground. A poof of smoke filled the air, and when it cleared, a bird twice his own size stood in front of him. Deidara hopped onto its back, and the bird took flight. "It's okay, Sasori no Danna," Deidara murmured. "I've got you. We'll be back soon." Could Sasori even hear him? Probably not. He'd said his mind was inside this thing, but still, it didn't have ears or eyes. Sasori probably had no idea what was going on, if he was even conscious.

Deidara cradled the cylinder against his chest. He wished Sasori had given him more detailed instructions about what to do in this situation. Did the core need to be kept warm? Just in case, he wrapped it in his cloak, protecting it from the wind. His fingers tightened around the small bundle, holding Sasori's heart close to his own. He looked down at it, and a strange feeling washed over him.

He held Sasori's innermost self in his hands—his vulnerable little center, with all its hard protective layers stripped away. It was so small, so warm. Like holding a tiny animal.

How strange, seeing him like this. Sasori was always in control, always on top of things. Deidara was supposed to be the bumbling one, the one who needed rescuing. He'd never expected to be in this position. If Sasori died…

His chest tightened with panic at the thought. He wouldn't, _couldn't _let that happen.

"You're my friend," he whispered. Even knowing Sasori couldn't hear him, he had to say it at least once. "You're the only friend I've ever had. I won't let you die."

* * *

Sasori hovered in darkness and silence.

He was restless. He was angry at himself for falling into a simple trap. Most of all, though, he was bored. In this condition, there was nothing he could do except wait and hope that brat remembered his instructions. So he waited.

Sasori hated waiting. It was even worse without the distractions of sight and sound. In the darkness, time had no meaning. Each minute stretched into an eternity, and he found his thoughts drifting back…back into the past, where he didn't want to go. Back to his home in Suna.

* * *

_A little boy stands in his room, looking out the window, waiting for the sight of a man with red hair, a pretty brown-haired woman. He sees two people walking down the street. His heartbeat quickens and his stomach fills with a swarm of butterflies—It's them! Surely, this time…_

_But it is not them. The strangers' faces come into focus, and his heart sinks. But they _will _come back soon, surely. He thinks longingly about their warm arms around him, closes his eyes and tries to summon them with his desire alone…_

_

* * *

_Sasori pushed the memory away. He wasn't that little boy anymore.

Yet somehow, now, he found himself falling deeper and deeper into the pit of memory, with no sensory perception to grab hold of, nothing to anchor him to the present.

* * *

_A little boy lays awake at night, gazing at the framed pictures next to his bed. His chest aches. Chiyo-baachan has told him his parents will come back—all he has to do is wait—but he is tired of waiting, and he wonders, at times…what if they don't come back? What if he'll be alone forever? He begins to cry, muffling his sobs against the pillow…_

_

* * *

_Why was he thinking about this now? He didn't need love. He'd transformed himself into a perfect, self-sufficient being. He was…

_Alone._

He'd been alone for most of his life, of course. He should be used to it. Yet now, loneliness pierced him like a blade. He felt as he had so many nights when he was a child, longing for his parents, laying awake in bed and thinking about the day when they'd all be together again—a time which seemed to never draw nearer, but to recede further and further into the future with each passing day.

It was so dark, this sealed-off space within his own heart. So empty. His memories loomed over him and surrounded him, threatening to eat him alive.

* * *

"_Sasori…I…I must tell you something."_

"_What is it, Chiyo-baachan?"_

"_Your parents…are not coming home."_

"_Wh-what do you mean?"_

"_They…they are no longer in the land of the living. They have been dead these past three years. I am so sorry. I know I should have told you, but I couldn't. I…Sasori? Look at me, please."_

"_You—you lied to me. You told me they were coming back."_

"_I know it was wrong to keep it from you. But I…"_

"_Leave me alone!"_

_

* * *

_He remembered—how he'd run crying from her, flung himself face down on his bed, and sobbed, feeling betrayed, empty, lost, feeling as if his entire world had just collapsed.

And the memories kept coming, like a rain of blows that wouldn't stop.

* * *

_A boy standing over his parents' graves, tears coursing down his face…kneeling, embracing his mother's gravestone, his cheek pressed against cold stone as he cried, wanting them with all his being, wanting their comfort, their love._

_But they can never comfort him again. They are dead, rotting, like everything rots and dies—those warm arms that once held him close, now cold and maggot-eaten, the flesh decaying from faces never to smile again…_

_

* * *

__No, no. _He tried to push the memory away. Meaningless. What was love, anyway? Just another animal need, no different than the need to eat or piss or fuck. He'd left all that behind.

_Yes, _whispered a voice in his mind—his own voice_. You ran away from it. Ran away from other people. You retreated deeper and deeper into the private world of your puppets, your art. They became your friends, those puppets—because they were safe. Because they couldn't lie or die or hurt you. You spent your adolescence buried in your workshop, perfecting your marvelous weapons, caressing them as a lover would. You learned the secret of making human remains into puppets to preserve their skills and beauty forever. And then a wonderful thought occurred to you: What if you could become a puppet yourself? It sounded so attractive. No death, no pain, no aging…and the loss of your humanity was a small price to pay. You didn't want to sleep anymore, because you had bad dreams. You didn't want to eat, because food had lost its taste. You didn't want to hold or be held, because touch brought the potential for pain._

Now he didn't sleep, didn't eat, didn't feel.

Yet he was afraid. For the first time in years, perhaps decades, he felt the icy sting of fear: fear that he was dead already and this was hell, fear that he'd be trapped here forever in his own memories, his own consciousness, never to touch another person again, never to hear another voice, never to be held.

Hell wasn't hot, after all. It wasn't even cold. It was…nothing. A place of waiting—eternal waiting, with no end in sight, no comfort, no hope of escape or rescue. Just this unbearable stillness--a fate worse than any torture he could conceive of.

Sasori clung desperately to reason. He was conscious. That meant he was alive, that his flesh core was intact. Deidara would bring him back. He'd be fine. There was no hell, no afterlife. Wasn't that why he'd become so obsessed with immortality?

But what if he'd been wrong?

This…this was absurd. He was Sasori—immortal, untouchable, powerful, feared and respected. He'd survived countless battles. He was a hardened shinobi.

Why, now, did his soul tremble?

Despite all his efforts to silence it, his heart cried out with the voice of his child-self:_ Someone help me! Please, I don't want to die. I don't want to be alone. Kaa-san…Tou-san, where are you? Chiyo-baachan…are you there? I'm sorry I left. Do you still love me? I'm sorry for everything. Let me take it back. Let me be a child again. Let me love and be loved. Deidara…Deidara, are you there? Help me! Help me…_

* * *

Even in flight, it took over eight hours to get back to their hideout. At last, Deidara spotted it below—a dun-colored building, mostly hidden by the rocks and trees around it—and swooped down. He hopped off the clay bird, ran inside, down the hall, to Sasori's workshop. He grabbed one of the spare bodies hanging from a hook on the back wall and lay it down on the work table. The body looked identical to Sasori's, lacking only the eyes and the cylinder in its chest.

Holding his breath, Deidara bent over the motionless body and slowly, carefully slid the cylinder into the round hole.

A moment passed. Then eyes appeared in the puppet's empty holes and blinked up at him. "Deidara," Sasori whispered.

"Oh, thank God," Deidara said. "I was afraid I might be too late. I—"

Sasori flung his arms around Deidara and hugged him tight, face pressed against his chest.

Deidara froze, stunned. Sasori rarely touched him, except to smack him with his tail or slam him against the nearest solid surface when Deidara was getting on his nerves. The last thing he'd expected was…this. Cautiously, gently, Deidara hugged him back. "Hey…danna_…_you okay?"

Sasori trembled against him. "I had to wait in the dark," he whispered. "I hate waiting."

"Sorry. I came back as fast as I could." Deidara lay a hand on that vivid, sunset-red hair and stroked it. It was as soft as he'd always imagined. "It's all over now. Everything's fine."

Sasori clung to him a moment longer. Then he took a deep breath, released him and averted his gaze. His fingers clenched and unclenched. "My robes," he murmured, "bring me my robes."

"They kind of blew up, un."

"There's a spare in my bedroom closet."

Deidara fetched a robe. Sasori grabbed it, turned away and hastily slipped it on. He still wouldn't meet Deidara's gaze. He looked uncharacteristically subdued, almost sheepish. Then he glared at Deidara over one shoulder. "If you breathe a word about this to anyone, I'll kill you."

"About what?"

"You know what I'm talking about. Don't make me spell it out."

"Oh, un…hugging me, you mean? Sure, un. I won't tell anyone. Why would I?"

"The rest of Akatsuki would get a good laugh out of it, I suppose. Who could blame them? It's absurd. The great Sasori, breaking down like a frightened child…"

"It's really not that big a deal." In all their two years together, Deidara had never seen Sasori so embarrassed. If the puppet master were capable of it, he'd probably be blushing. "Do you need anything?"

"No." Sasori turned away, shielding his eyes with one hand. He sat on the edge of the work table, his shoulders tense beneath his robes. "How did they know we were coming?"

"Who?"

"The Iwagakure ninja, of course. They must have set that trap for us." He stood and began to pace. Then he walked out of the room, through the front door.

Deidara followed him outside as Sasori muttered to himself under his breath: "Paper bombs hidden beneath the soil…deceptively simple. Were they observing us from a distance, ready to set it off as soon as we approached?" He shot a glare at Deidara. "Well? Were they? You're the explosives expert."

"Un…I don't know. It's possible."

"I need to go gather up Hiruko's pieces. He was demolished in the explosion, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, but…gathering up the pieces would like all day, and there's no way you'd be able to put him back together…"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, brat. Hiruko is my favorite. I'm not going to leave him in fragments on the ground."

"Well, okay, un. Let's go."

Sasori shook his head. "I want to do this alone. Lend me one of your clay birds." It wasn't a request; Sasori's tone made that clear.

Deidara handed him a clay figurine. "Just be careful not to get blown up again. Please?"

"This time I'll be ready. I won't make the same mistake twice."

Deidara nodded and made a hand sign. With a poof, the tiny figurine became a huge bird, and Sasori climbed on. Deidara watched him fly away, dwindle to a tiny speck in the sky, and disappear.

-To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Deidara waited at the hideout all day, his stomach a tight knot. Just when he was thinking about going after his partner to make sure he was safe, Sasori returned with Hiruko's remains sealed inside a huge scroll. "I'll be in my workshop for awhile," Sasori said. "Don't disturb me." He retreated into his workshop and shut the door.

He spent two full days barricaded inside.

Deidara spent that time experimenting with his clay bombs, trying out new shapes, but his heart wasn't really in it. He kept thinking about Sasori. Worrying.

Sasori, it seemed, had been deeply shaken by the experience of being bodiless for eight hours. Understandable. But Deidara had the feeling he was even _more _bothered by what had happened afterward...which was ironic, really, because Deidara wouldn't have thought anything of it if Sasori hadn't made such a fuss. After all, what was more natural than to cling to another person for comfort? Even the toughest ninja weren't immune from fear. But Sasori, it appeared, had been profoundly humiliated by his own actions.

Of course, Sasori was neck-deep in denial about the fact that he still had emotions. Deidara had figured that out long ago. And the reason was pretty obvious; Sasori hated being vulnerable. Hated it so much, in fact, that he'd ditched his soft, fleshy human body and made himself into a walking, talking weapon. Then—as if that wasn't protection enough—he kept himself hidden inside another puppet. Hell, Deidara hadn't even seen Sasori's real form until several months into their partnership.

Sasori obsessively armored himself, both physically and emotionally. Having any kind of need for another person was something the puppet master would never admit to. And the pretense bugged Deidara. Always had.

At last, unable to endure it anymore, he knocked on the door of Sasori's workshop. "Hey, Danna_. _Can I come in?"

"No. I'm busy."

"You don't have to stop working, I just want to talk to you for a minute."

Silence.

"Come on, you've been in there for ages."

"I'm repairing Hiruko."

"Really? It seems more like you're hiding and sulking because I saw you in a vulnerable moment. Well, get the fuck over it. I'm tired of talking to myself out here."

He knew that would piss Sasori off, but that was probably the only way he'd get him out of his workshop. Still, he hadn't anticipated the full fury of his partner's reaction.

The door flew open. A long, metal cable shot out, wrapped three times around Deidara's waist, hoisted him into the air and slammed him against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. "Ah, shit! Danna_, _calm down!"

The cable slammed him against the floor. Sasori loomed over him, his eyes cold and hard. He planted a foot on Deidara's chest. "Don't ever presume to tell me what I am feeling, brat."

"Oh, come on! It's obvious!"

"I should kill you right now."

"Fine, fucking kill me, then!"

"You think I'm joking?" The cable retracted and vanished beneath Sasori's robe. Sasori grabbed Deidara by his neck and hoisted him into the air. He raised his other hand, and chakra strings shot from his fingers and stuck to Deidara's arms and legs. Sasori released Deidara's neck and stepped back, one hand still raised.

Deidara hung suspended in the air by invisible restraints, panting, his heart thumping in his chest. "Let me go!"

Sasori widened his fingers, and Deidara felt the chakra strings pulling his limbs, stretching them further and further, until he screamed.

Sasori stared up at him. His face was rigid and expressionless, but his eyes were so wide the whites showed all around, and a crazed light burned in them. When he looked like that, that was generally a signal to run for cover—but at the moment, that wasn't an option. "You've tried my patience too many times, brat," he said, his voice dangerously low and soft.

Deidara gritted his teeth, choking back another scream, and stared straight into those amber eyes. "What are you so fucking scared of?!" he shouted. Pushing an enraged Sasori was probably stupid—maybe fatally stupid. He knew that, but he couldn't stop himself. "Are you really going to kill me now, just because I know that you're still human? That you still have feelings? Are you that afraid of being hurt, that you'll kill anyone who starts getting close to you?!"

The chakra strings stretched his limbs wider. He gasped. Pain ripped through his body, and a red haze swallowed his vision. Damn it, why had he opened his big mouth? "D-Danna_…_stop, please!" he cried. Something popped in his left shoulder, releasing another hot, juicy burst of pain. _"Sasori!"_ he screamed.

The chakra strings dissolved, and he hit the floor with a thud. He panted and cradled his shoulder, head spinning. Blackness washed over him. He came to a moment later and found himself staring at the closed door of Sasori's workshop.

Slowly, still cradling his shoulder, Deidara sat up. "Sasori?"he called, his voice thick with pain.

No response.

Deidara dragged himself to the door and knocked. Still nothing. He stood, legs shaking, and tried the knob. Locked. "Damn it," he whispered. Tears stung his eyes. He retreated to his bedroom and lay down on his right side. His shoulder throbbed dully. He tried to move the arm. It moved, but the flare of pain left him biting his tongue and choking back a scream. He shut his eyes and gingerly probed the shoulder with his fingertips. He wondered if it was dislocated.

He lay there for an hour or so, wondering what to do, wondering if Sasori was still pissed.

But Deidara never brooded for long. Action suited him better. So after awhile, he got up, went back to Sasori's workshop and knocked on the door. "Danna? Will you please unlock the door?"

Silence. Then a faint click, and the door opened a crack.

Deidara hesitated, then stepped into the room.

Sasori sat in a corner of the workshop, hugging his knees to his chest, his head bowed. He must have used a chakra string to turn the latch-lock, thought Deidara. "Danna?"

Sasori didn't reply, but he didn't tell him to go away either. Deidara took that as an encouraging sign. He crept closer, crouched, reached out and hesitantly touched his partner's shoulder. Sasori didn't react. "Hey…" Deidara cleared his throat. "Can we talk?"

For a moment, Sasori didn't move. Then he raised his head, hands covering his face, and peered out at Deidara from between his fingers. He looked oddly childlike—a little boy playing peek-a-boo. "You should be afraid of me. I almost killed you. How can you be so calm?"

Deidara tried to shrug and winced as fresh pain ripped through his shoulder.

Sasori lowered his hands. "Let me fix that," he murmured. He placed a hand on Deidara's shoulder and pushed. The bone snapped back into place, and Deidara let out a strangled cry. He bit his lower lip, eyes watering, as a blue glow of chakra wreathed Sasori's hand. The dull, throbbing pain in his shoulder slowly faded and vanished.

Deidara exhaled. "Thanks. Um…" He cleared his throat, wondering how to broach the subject.

But Sasori spoke first. "I'm sorry."

Deidara blinked. That was a first. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't. I lost control of myself. That's unacceptable." Sasori stared at the floor. "You were right, you know," he said quietly.

"Eh?"

"What you said earlier, about why I've been hiding in here these past few days. That's why I reacted the way I did—because I knew your words to be true, and I couldn't bear it. After what happened, I couldn't face you. I was ashamed of myself, ashamed that you'd seen me in a moment of utmost weakness."

"Is it really that big a deal, un?"

"Yes. I'm a shinobi. An Akatsuki member. But when I was trapped within my own heart, in that darkness…it was as if all my years of experience and training fell away, and all that was left was…I can't even say it."

"What?" Deidara asked softly.

He shielded his eyes with one hand. "I broke down. I started crying out for help. Crying out for my parents, for my grandmother. For you. All it took was a little sensory deprivation to regress me into a pleading, sniveling child. I thought I was stronger than that. And then, when I opened my eyes and saw you, I…I just…"

"If it makes any difference, I haven't lost any respect for you. You're still the toughest motherfucker I know."

Sasori didn't reply.

Deidara sighed. "Seriously, is it such an awful thing that you might have a few human feelings after all? Feelings aren't always a weakness."

"They usually are. They get in the way. Fear can paralyze you. Anger can make you stupid and reckless. Love can do the same."

"But without those things, what's left? Just an empty shell. A machine. Sure, emotions can be inconvenient at times, but without them life is pretty fucking boring. I'm _glad _you still have feelings. You're more interesting this way." He smiled. "And it's nice to hear you finally admit it."

Sasori lowered his gaze. "What do you want from me? Why are you so determined to rip off all my armor? Do you just enjoy exposing me and seeing me squirm?"

"No. That's not it."

"Then what?"

"I just want to get closer to you."

"For what purpose?"

"No purpose. I like you, that's all."

"You like me." He repeated the words slowly, as if tasting them. "Why?"

"Lots of reasons. I mean, you're cool and sexy and powerful. And you're an incredible artist. Even if I don't agree with all your ideas, I can respect them. You might be harsh and strict with me, but you're fair. Sometimes you're even kind."

"Me? Kind? I find that difficult to believe."

"But sometimes you are. You find little ways to encourage me when I need it. You hardly ever praise me, but when you do, it's the best feeling in the world because I know I've really earned it—because you never give out empty praise. A kind word from you can keep me floating on a little cloud of happiness for days. And when I'm depressed, you know how to snap me out of it."

"I do?"

"Sure."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I almost never see you depressed. But when you are I usually just smack you upside the head and tell you to stop wallowing in self pity."

Deidara laughed. "Well, sometimes that's what I need. And I think you know that. You're my best friend, un. And…" Heat rose into his cheeks. "You've got beautiful eyes."

Sasori blinked. He lowered his gaze, and for a moment, he looked almost timid. Deidara had never seen him like this before. It was an unexpected side of his danna. "I don't understand how you can be so open about all this," Sasori said. "If I felt this way about someone, I'd never confess it."

"Why?"

"Because it would give that person far too much power over me."

"Life's too short to hold anything back, in my opinion. Anyway, it's not like it's any big secret, un. You've always known how I feel about you. I don't think I could hide it, even if I wanted to."

Sasori was silent a moment, staring at the floor. "All right, so you like me. What of it? I can't give you what you're really after. Even if I wanted to have sex with you, I couldn't. Not with this body."

Deidara cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, it isn't…_completely _about that. I mean…there's more to a relationship."

"I wouldn't know. I've never been in a sexual relationship."

Deidara raised his eyebrows. He'd often wondered about that, but Sasori never deigned to speak about his private life. "So you were a virgin when you made yourself into a puppet?"

He nodded. "What about you? Have you ever…"

"Sort of. I went down on this other guy once—just some guy I met in a bar—but it wasn't that great. I just wanted to try it. Um…did you like boys or girls? When you were human, I mean."

"I don't know. I never spent much time thinking about that sort of thing. I was always working on puppets. I saw the other students at the Academy form trivial bonds with each other, then break up a few weeks or months later, and I wondered why they even bothered. I mean...love never lasts. I didn't want to waste my energy on something so impermanent."

"But you must have had a few fantasies, at least."

"I don't know. If I did, I don't remember now." Sasori hesitated. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. Then he asked, "Will you hold me again? Just as an experiment."

"An experiment?"

"I want to see how it feels."

"Sure." Deidara took Sasori's hands and helped him to his feet.

Sasori leaned against him, his head on Deidara's shoulder. Deidara's heartbeat quickened. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Sasori, who closed his eyes.

"I can't feel anything," he said quietly. "I know you're holding me, but I can't feel your arms." His amber eyes opened, and there was a shadow of sadness in them.

"You really can't feel…anything?"

"Nothing. When I first began the process of converting myself into a human puppet, I conducted experiments, trying to reproduce the five senses in an artificial body. Sight and sound proved easy to recreate. The other three…not so much. The sense of touch is especially complex. Without flesh, there is no feeling. But I soon realized that I didn't need it, that sight and sound were enough to guide me. I reasoned that freedom from pain would make up for the lack of pleasure. Now, though…" He trailed off, staring into space, his head still resting against Deidara's chest. "What is a hug if you can't feel it?"

Deidara's arms tightened around him.

"I've been thinking long and hard this past hour. I've been trying to come to terms with the fact that I still have emotional needs. It's…difficult."

"Will you let me help you?"

A long pause. Then Sasori nodded.

Gently, Deidara placed a finger beneath Sasori's chin and lifted it. Deidara had always been kind of short. Sasori was one of the few males he'd met who was a few inches shorter than him. He liked it—liked looking down into those large, honey-colored eyes. "I want to touch you," he said. "Can I?"

"Yes."

Slowly, holding his breath, he ran his thumb over Sasori's lower lip. It was cool to the touch, firmer than normal flesh, but not exactly like wood, either—neither a human nor a puppet mouth, but something in between.

His heart thundered in his chest, and his mouth went dry. Sasori just stared up at him with wide open eyes. He didn't move, didn't resist, as Deidara slipped the thumb between his lips and explored the inside of his mouth. It wasn't warm or wet, but he could feel the supple velvet of a tongue. He slid his thumb out of Sasori's mouth and ran his fingertips over the smooth cheeks.

Then—very slowly—he leaned in and kissed those cool, firm lips. He slipped his tongue past them, into the soft, dry cavern of Sasori's mouth, and bathed the inside of his cheeks with gentle, wet strokes.

And still, Sasori didn't react. Deidara withdrew his tongue.

"You see?" Sasori whispered, his lips moving against Deidara's. "This is what it would be like all the time. I could learn how to act out responses to your touch, but that's all it would be. An act. Do you see why there can be nothing between us?"

"Why? Do you mind it, un? Me touching you?"

"No. But…is that really enough for you?"

"I don't know. It might be."

Sasori hesitated. "Can we try something else?"

"Sure, un. Anything."

"Come with me." Sasori took his hand, and they went into the bedroom.

-To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Some sexual content in this chapter.

* * *

In the bedroom, Sasori turned to Deidara and said, "Strip for me."

Deidara slipped out of his robes. He'd never really been body-shy, but still, a flush rose into his cheeks as he exposed himself to Sasori's gaze. Those amber eyes moved up and down, scanning the length of his body. "It's bigger than I expected."

"Eh?" His flush grew hotter.

"Your penis. It's larger than I thought it would be." His tone was perfectly neutral; he might as well have been making a comment on the weather.

"Umm…thanks."

"It wasn't a compliment. Just an observation."

"Well, thanks anyway. Say 'cock,' though. Penis is such an un-sexy word…don't you think, un? So clinical."

"If you say so." He tilted his head, took a step closer and ran his fingers over the large, stitched-shut mouth on Deidara's chest. "I haven't seen this before."

"Yeah, I know, it's kind of weird, un. Imagine what it was like for my mother when I was born. Y'know, usually the first thing the doctor says is, 'it's a boy' or 'it's a girl,' not, 'what the fuck is this?'" He realized he was babbling and chuckled nervously, gaze downcast. He'd fantasized about stripping for Sasori many times, but he'd never imagined it being so awkward.

Sasori placed his hands on Deidara's shoulders. "You're trembling. Why?"

"I don't know, un. Just a little nervous, I guess. Can I take your robes off?"

Sasori hesitated, then nodded.

Deidara slipped off Sasori's robes, exposing his body. He'd seen it before, but still, his pulse quickened at the sight—its beauty, its strangeness—the porcelain smooth skin, a shade somewhere between cream and almond, the jointed limbs like a doll's.

"Lay down," Sasori said.

Deidara stretched out on the bed, and Sasori lay down next to him. For a minute or two, they just looked at each other. Then Deidara lay a hand on Sasori's chest and rubbed in a circle. His fingers slid down over Sasori's stomach, over his smooth groin, his thigh. He touched the joint of his elbow, traced the seam where his hip joined his torso. He scooted lower, examined Sasori's left foot, ran his finger along the sole and played with the delicately jointed toes. The nails, like his fingernails, had been painted a dark green. The mouth in Deidara's left palm opened, and the tongue slipped between Sasori's first and second toe.

Through it all, he didn't move, just watched Deidara with those large eyes. "You enjoy this?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah." He ran his fingers along Sasori's leg. "I do wish you could feel it, but even without that, it's still nice to touch you."

Sasori sat up. "If we're going to do this, we should keep it a secret. Others might see it as a weakness or find some way to use it against us."

"Use what against us, un?"

"You know. If we become…involved. Sexually."

Deidara stared at him. "Then you _do _want to?"

"Well…" Sasori cleared his throat. "I could try. I mean, I can't do the same things another human could do, but…maybe I can do _some_ things. We could experiment." He met Deidara's gaze. "Are you sure you still want it, though?"

"God, yes."

"It will get frustrating for you, being with someone who can't respond to you physically. You'd be happier with a normal human."

"I don't want a normal human. I want you, Danna."

Sasori looked up. Then he wrapped his arms around him, pulled him close and pressed his cool lips to Deidara's. The kiss was awkward, clumsy. Sasori's lack of experience was apparent. But all the same, it sent a chill skittering down Deidara's spine, and his toes curled.

"You like that?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

Sasori's fingertips skimmed over his naked chest and found his nipple. Deidara watched, breathless, as Sasori traced a circle around it, and the nipple puckered and hardened. "Your body is very responsive," Sasori said. He trailed one finger down Deidara's stomach. "I can hear your heart beating. It's beating very fast."

"You do that to me."

Sasori stroked Deidara's thigh. Then he leaned in for another kiss. Deidara didn't have much more experience with kissing than Sasori, but he tried to guide him through the process, anyway. _Thirty-five years old and he's never even been kissed before now, _thought Deidara. His heart ached.

Then Sasori's fingers brushed his cock. He gasped and twitched as pleasure shot through him like a jolt of electricity.

"It gets larger when I touch it." There was a hint of wonder in his voice, as if erections were a new concept to him. His fingertips slid down the length of Deidara's cock.

He had such smooth, soft hands. Like a girl's, really…but the softness was deceptive. Those were the hands of a killer, an unrivaled puppet master. Now, Deidara watched them toying with his most vulnerable parts, and a tremor of pleasure ran through him. One slender finger pressed against his balls, and a little moan escaped his throat.

Sasori raised an eyebrow. "You like that?"

"Y-yes…"

"Hmm." He pressed a little harder.

"Careful." Deidara gulped. "They're pretty sensitive."

"I can see that." He paused, studying Deidara's balls. Then he said, "Roll over. Onto your stomach."

Deidara obeyed, heart thumping. He felt Sasori's deft hands part his cheeks. For a moment, he just stared at Deidara's exposed hole. His thumb brushed over it, and Deidara felt the muscles of his rim contract at the touch. "When you fantasize about me," Sasori said, "what do you see, exactly? What do you envision me doing to you?"

"I…I think about you taking me…" He gulped, his mouth dry.

"Really." One slim, cool finger traced a circle around his asshole. "Of course, I can't do that without a cock. But I can do this." Sasori's finger pressed into him, and he gasped. He wriggled, biting his lower lip, and looked over his shoulder. Sasori stared back at him with those emotionless amber eyes. Then he added another finger and moved the digits in a scissoring motion, stretching Deidara's rim.

Deidara whimpered and squirmed. "Unnn…"

"Hold still, brat. If you wriggle around like an excited puppy, I'm going to end up hurting you."

"I can't help it." He panted.

"Then I'll have to restrain you, won't I?" The long, metal cable slithered out from the compartment in his stomach and wrapped twice around Deidara's body, pinning his arms to his sides. "There. That's better."

The sharp tip of the cable swayed back and forth, gleaming with liquid poison. Deidara's gaze followed it involuntarily, and he gulped.

"Relax, brat. I won't let it scratch you. I'm more careful than that."

"You're not gonna shove that inside me or anything?"

"No. Not unless you want to spend the next three days feeling your bowels burn with indescribable agony while the poison seeps into your system and eventually kills you."

He laughed nervously. "No, I could do without that."

"Though perhaps if I modified the tip…well, that's an experiment for another day." Sasori leaned closer, examining Deidara's stretched asshole with a keen, focused gaze. It was the same look he got when he was working on one of his puppets. He pushed his fingers a little deeper. "You're extremely tight."

"W-well, I've never really done this…I mean, I've stuck my fingers inside myself before—just to see what it felt like, y'know?—but it's a little different when someone else is doing it." Sasori twisted his fingers, and Deidara's breath hissed softly between his teeth. "Ooh…" His eyes slipped shut.

"Keep those eyes open."

Deidara gulped and opened them.

"Good." He added a third finger, and Deidara gasped. "I like to see your eyes while I'm doing this. I've grown very adept at reading your emotions in them, you know. I can see if what I'm doing is causing you pleasure or pain."

"S-sometimes they go together." He smiled. Then Sasori's fingers jabbed deeper into him, hitting his prostate, and he twitched. He felt his eyes widening.

"Ah." Sasori smiled. "That's the spot, isn't it? Right there." He pushed harder. One finger rubbed back and forth across the sensitive gland.

Deidara bit his lower lip. A warm trickle of blood ran down his chin, and a thin whine escaped his throat.

Sasori chuckled softly. "I rather like this. Look at you. You're such a pretty, responsive little creature. All I have to do is apply a little pressure right _here…_" He rubbed that spot again. "…and you're moaning and drooling helplessly."

Deidara realized, to his embarrassment, that he _was _drooling. He swiped the back of one hand across his lips, his cheeks hot.

Sasori chuckled again. "So cute." With his free hand, he traced a circle on Deidara's full, tight balls. "What else would turn you on?"

"Unn…" He pushed back against Sasori's fingers. "Call me names."

Sasori tilted his head. "What?"

"Say I'm your little slut."

Sasori blinked. "You like that sort of thing? Really?"

"Yeah." Deidara licked his lips. "Insult me."

Sasori's lips curved in a smile, and his lids lowered. There was a wicked, predatory glint in his amber eyes. "You're such a perverted brat."

"Mmm, yeah." He ground his cock against the bed.

"Look at you, you filthy whore." Amusement danced in his eyes. "You little slut. You like being my little slut, don't you?"

"_Yeah..._oooh, keep going."

"You're just a nasty, dirty-minded little brat, aren't you? A brat with bad art…"

"No, don't say _that!"_ Deidara frowned at him, pushing out his lower lip in a pout.

"What? You wanted to be insulted."

"Not my art. It makes me feel bad when you insult my art, un."

Sasori sighed. "You're so picky. How am I supposed to know which insults turn you on and which make you feel bad?"

"I dunno. You were doing so well until then."

Sasori scowled at him. Then the scowl melted, and a smile spread across his face. "I like it when you sulk."

"Really?"

"Yes. Though I suppose I shouldn't encourage you, or you'll start doing it all the time." He paused, then resumed moving his fingers inside Deidara. His free hand reached out to play with his hair, twining the long golden strands around his fingers.

"Unn…c-can you…can you touch my cock?"

"Beg me a little more."

A jolt of pleasure shot through Deidara. Did Sasori know that being forced to beg turned him on? "Please, please, please, Danna." He writhed on the bed. "Please touch my cock. I need it."

"All right." Sasori retracted his cable, freeing Deidara. "Roll over."

Deidara rolled onto his back, flushed and panting. Sasori's fingers were still inside him, applying that delicious pressure. As Deidara watched, trembling with need, Sasori lowered his head and rubbed one smooth, soft cheek against his hard cock. "Ohh," he breathed. "Oh, wow…"

Sasori wrapped his free hand around the base of Deidara's cock and continued to nuzzle it, rubbing his lips and cheeks against it like a cat marking his territory. When he dragged that silky red hair across the head, Deidara gasped. "Good boy," whispered Sasori. His eyes gleamed. "Just relax…" He cupped Deidara's balls and squeezed them gently.

"Oh God. S-Sasori…I'm going to…"

Come spurted from the tip of his cock and onto Sasori's face. He blinked, ran his fingertips through the thick, white fluid and rubbed some of it between a thumb and finger.

"Oh, wow." Deidara sank into the bed, his head spinning.

"You got it all over me." Sasori sounded cross. "It's going to seep into my joints."

"Unn…sorry."

"Hmph." Sasori carefully withdrew his fingers from Deidara's body, grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand and cleaned himself up. Then he stretched out beside Deidara and rested a hand on his stomach. There was a thoughtful look on his face. "Did you enjoy that?"

"Oh, God yes. Thank you." He smiled through the haze of bliss. "I wish there was something I could do for you in return."

"I like observing your reactions. I find it interesting." Sasori rested his head on Deidara's shoulder. His fingers wandered across Deidara's chest and down to his spent cock. He touched it lightly, then lowered his hand to the bed.

"Say…Danna…"

"Hmm?"

"Do you really think my art is bad?"

"You know what I think. Why do you care, anyway?"

"Well, I admire you, un. You're probably the greatest artist I've ever met. If _you _think it's stupid…"

"Stop obsessing over my opinion. Do you think _I_ care about what others think? Do you think I'd let anyone's opinion stop me from making my puppets?"

"No, but…I dunno. Everyone in my home village thought it was stupid." He stared at the ceiling. "Art explained so much to me. It made the world make sense, and it made me happy. But every time I tried to share it with someone they just laughed at me or insulted me or ignored me. No one saw anything of value in it. I always told myself it was just because they couldn't understand, because _they _weren't artists. I thought you'd be different. But even you think it's stupid. Maybe I'm just…"

"Deidara." He aimed a long stare into his partner's eyes. "I'm telling you that a true artist—a _great_ artist—doesn't let others' opinions discourage him. If he loves his art and understands its value, then that should be enough for him. He doesn't need anyone's approval. So stop asking for mine."

Deidara's eyes widened. For a moment, he couldn't speak. A lump had risen into his throat, cutting off air and voice. Then he lowered his head and hid it against Sasori's chest. Tears stung his eyes, and he hugged Sasori tight. "Thank you, Danna," he whispered.

"There's no reason to thank me. I just told you…why are you crying, brat? What's the matter with you?"

He smiled through his tears and kissed Sasori's cold lips. "Nothing."

-The End


End file.
